The garden was quiet, a chill wind blowing through the edges of their clothes and flowing through their loose hair. The distant echoes of music and laughter from the banquet hall drifted through the night air, a stark contrast to the tension settling between the two figures standing beneath the archway of blooming wisteria.
The scent of night-blooming flowers mixed with the cool spring air, yet Abrielle wasn’t at peace with it. A silent storm raged in her heart with her palms going sweaty.
She stood beneath the wisteria archway, her fingers clasped tightly together. The mont stretched unbearably as she tried to steady her breathing. He had agreed so easily that it made her scared at what he may have in mind. She was tired of the gas and all. The rumours have to stop. She had braced for mockery, for a sly remark, for him to twist her desperation into amusent. He used her weakness against her, enjoying ssing with her and Cedric. Finally, he had simply agreed.
That scared her more than anything.
Alfonso’s eyes were watching her with that ever-present smirk, his sharp eyes unreadable. "You look pale, Princess," he murmured, tilting his head. "Did you not want to agree?" A slight mocking tone in his voice.
Abrielle swallowed, forcing herself to hold his gaze. "That’s not it." She argued back trying not to look nervous.
"Then why do you look like a rabbit caught in a trap? Your hands are trembling, Abby," He ntioned, taking Abrielle unaware; that was the na Cedric rarely called her."I said I would stop, and yet you seem more afraid than before." Alfonso reached out to hold her hand; his touch was warmth, but she didn’t like it. She yanked her hand out but his grip tightened. Her hand is still trembling in her hand.
She clenched her hands in his hold, nails digging into her palms. "I just didn’t expect it and please don’t call Abby." He answered him, she didn’t like how intimate they looked.
Alfonso let out a low chuckle, his thumb rubbing her trembling hand, she could see the glint of amusent in his dark eyes. "Why can’t I call you Abby?" He chid.
Abrielle sighed a mist forming beneath her nose. "It seems rather intimate to call by a nickna, and I don’t want any more misunderstanding, Alfonso. I am tired of this ga." She admitted.
He let out a dry laugh; he understood what she ant. After all, she was too nervous to stand before him or leave him to, to hold her hand. He had held the hand of a lady before, but she seed rather more soft and fragile. She was trembling, but her hands were warm, leaving a subtle feeling he didn’t want to forget.
"You are scared of , you can’t stop trembling and distaste a na. I love the way Abby sounds and I don’t think I might drop it easily." He said, his words were haunting. He was still toying with her. She didn’t bother to argue that she was scared. It was hard hiding it.
"Smart," he murmured. "But I did give you my word, didn’t I? Let’s end this madness as you call it."
She exhaled shakily. "Yes, but what do you want in return?"
Alfonso humd as if considering. The mont stretched unbearably before he finally spoke, his voice soft yet deliberate.
"I’ll ask for a favour," he said, watching her closely. "Not now. Not soon. But one day."
A cold dread coiled in her stomach. That was worse than anything she had imagined. It was still the sa thing, the sa favour was unending.
"You want a blank favour?" she asked, her voice quieter now.
He smiled, slow and knowing. "You’re a clever one."
Abrielle’s throat felt tight. A deal with Alfonso was like signing a contract with an unknown price. But what choice did she have? If she backed out now, it would only give him a reason to continue.
She forced herself to nod. "I can’t accept that. Tell what you want. Who knows if what you have to ask is worse than what got into this situation in the first place."
Alfonso released her hand, hating to part with it. He could not help but laugh; she was a smart one, and it made him think of sothing daring. "You know what I wanted from the start, Abrielle, and it still doesn’t change. How about a night together, a single one, just the two of us?" He asked without batting an eye.
Her face scrunched, and she trembled. How could he ask for such a thing? "I am not a slut Alfonso. If that is what you want I will rather face the goultine. " She sneered at him, holding back her anger. She gathers her resolve, ready to leave, walking past him as she resigns to her faith.
The smile on Alfonso’s face didn’t stop. He let her take so steps before his words stopped her. "You don’t seem scared of death Abrielle."
She stopped her back against him. "I’d rather die with my honour than live as a woman who sold her body." She proudly says her resolve is firm. Alfonso burst into a loud laugh; her hands clutched her dress, and it felt like he was taunting her.
"What makes it funny to you? Did you think I won’t be able to reject it?" She scoffed at him, still refusing to glance back. Alfonso’s laugh died down, but he was still amused, grinning brightly.
"Far from that Abby." He said, calling her that na again. Abrielle felt his presence closer to her back. "I never said anything about trading your body. All I requested was a night together. On the last day of the rose duel, the night of the open banquet where the final victor gets the golden rose I want you to accompany . It is that simple."
Abrielle spun around. It wasn’t a difficult task, but there were a lot of challenges. First, by right, she was ant to go with Cedric. "But Cedric..." Alfonso didn’t let her speak, placing his finger on her lips.
"Find a way to figure it out. Plus Cedric might not go with you. Who knows?" He chid in a sing-song voice.
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